


A New Day

by cinewhore



Category: The Mentalist, The Mentalist (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Car Accidents, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Suicide, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:35:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26188837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinewhore/pseuds/cinewhore
Summary: Marcus comes to your aid after a car accident.
Relationships: Marcus Pike/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> well, this is different. in January, I was involved in a bad car accident. I came out with minor injuries. I still feel the effects of the accident to this day, but I’ve gotten better with dealing with it. In some ways I still find it a bit silly, how a fictional character could help me deal with trauma so much. This is a better coping mechanism than most, so i’ll take it.

You should’ve seen it coming. 

It was a rather mundane evening, you were preparing for work. Things had been a bit shaky to say the least, your anxiety was slowly taking control so you gave yourself a few minutes before you had to head out, to say a few words to whoever was listening. 

“I know things are rough, but I’m trying my best. So maybe if you could help, send me a sign or something that would be great.” you prayed out loud. Maybe they would hear you, maybe they wouldn’t. Right now that didn’t matter because it was 5:35 and you were running late. It’s a Friday night and since you were driving to a more popular area of town, you needed to beat the traffic. 

Marcus was working late at the office, as usual, so you had sent him a text letting him know that you were being called in at your office to handle a few things and that you’d be coming home late as well. He texted back to let you know that if you were still working by the time he was finished, he’d stop by your office with some takeout from your favorite diner. 

Smoothing over yourself once more, you grabbed your keys and purse, rushing out of the door. You backed out of the driveway carefully, looking both ways before pulling out onto the street fully. You didn’t bother with the radio, you were too worked up to find decent music. Instead, you drove in silence, the sounds of the car comforting you. 

You heard the horn before you could comprehend what exactly was happening. The headlights came after. It all happened so quickly, the sounds of tires squealing, the breaking of glass, the smell of smoke. It hurt to breathe and you couldn’t properly catch your breath. Your body was buzzing with adrenaline as you opened the door to your car and fell out onto the ground. What happened? 

A woman rushed up to you, grabbing you carefully by your shoulders before dragging you away from the car, fear, and horror mocked her features. You had crashed into a light pole head-on, the front of your car unrecognizable. Glass littered the ground, you were missing a shoe and the car wouldn’t stop smoking. 

“I had-I had the right away. I didn’t do anything wrong,” you mumbled to yourself, as you looked at the intersection. Tears blurred your vision and you began to hyperventilate. “I didn’t do anything wrong!” You told the woman, who was now checking you over for wounds, her cellphone pressed between her shoulder and her ear. 

“Miss, please, I need you to try and breathe, ok?” You nodded furiously, rubbing your hands together to keep them from shaking. 

“Yes, it happened right in front of my house. I have the woman who was hit sitting here, she’s badly shaken and has a few apparent injuries.” She said into the phone, tilting your head around to check for more cuts and bruises. 

“My husband, I need to call my husband.” You whimpered, reaching in your pocket for your cellphone. It was snapped in half, barely holding on by the mangled wires. You start to cry louder and the woman ends the call with the first responders. 

“Ma’am, is there someone I can call for you? Where do you live?”

You point down the street, your house still visible from where you sat. “I live there. My husband is at work, I was going to work.” 

“Ok, let’s call your husband. What’s his name?” She queried, pulling up the keypad on her screen. 

“Marcus, Marcus Pike.” You give her his work number, knowing he’s more likely to answer an unknown number from his desk than he is from his cellphone. She waits as it rings, making sure to keep an eye on you. 

“Hi, is this Marcus Pike? My name is Linda and I’m currently sitting with your wife who has been involved in a car accident. It happened in front of my house, a car t-boned her passenger side. It seems that the other car ran the stop sign.” She pauses as Marcus speaks, you try to decipher her facial expressions. 

She hands the phone to you. “Marcus?” your voice came out as a hushed whisper. 

“Baby? My god, I’m on the way right now. Hold tight, please! I’m coming.” 

You nod, even though he couldn’t see it. “Ok, I’m sorry Marcus. The car…” It was a recent birthday gift. You mentioned to Marcus how badly you wanted a bigger vehicle, a subtle hint at expanding the Pike family. He surprised you with it a few weeks ago, wrapped in a big red bow. 

“Baby I’m not worried about the car. We can always replace the car, I just need to make sure you’re ok. I’m almost there.” You could hear his frustrated grunts as he cursed the person driving in front of him. 

It didn’t take much longer for him to arrive, shortly after the ambulance did. The EMT asked you a few questions, checking you for any head wounds. You didn’t suffer from a concussion, but you knew from the intense pain on your side that you would need some further medical attention. You sat wrapped in a blanket on the sidewalk and looked on as Marcus spoke with the police and Linda before making his way over to you. 

He squats down to your eye level, grabbing you face in his hands. He doesn’t say anything and you know it’s because he doesn’t trust himself not to fall apart if he does, so you just let him press his forehead against yours. 

“Thought I lost you, baby.” He mumbled against your lips, causing new tears to form. He held you as you cried and didn’t let you go the entire ride to the hospital. 

…. 

You were released six hours later, a diagnosis of blunt abdominal trauma, a right foot contusion, and minor cuts and scrapes scattered along your face. Your adrenaline had worn off and you were incredibly tense, all your muscles tight. The doctor prescribed you pain killers and muscle relaxers, to help ease the tension on your body. All your x-rays came back clear, any remaining thoughts of internal bleeding drifting away. 

Marcus was extremely careful with you as he helped you out of the car and back into the house. He helped you undress and showered with you, scrubbing all the dirt and dried blood off of your body. He tried to get you to eat, but you refused. 

You laid down on the bed, curling up your body to the best of your ability. Marcus wrapped himself around you, placing kisses in your hair. 

“I’m so happy you’re ok, my love. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He whispered. You laced your fingers through his, pulling his arm tighter around your waist. 

“I don’t know what happened.” 

“Some idiot ran the stop sign and hit you. You didn’t do anything wrong. Your car is totaled, but the main thing is that you walked out with little injuries. I just need you to rest so you can get better.” 

You became angry at the thought. All it took was a person being careless that you could’ve lost your life. 

Marcus exhales softly. “I know it won’t be easy to recover baby, but I’m here every step of the way. I’ll pick up your medicine tomorrow while you rest, anything you need I’ll get. I’ll handle the paperwork. I’m going to sue that asshole for everything he’s got.” 

You rubbed your hand across his arm to soothe him. “It’s ok, Marcus.” You hummed. 

“You don’t have to drive again if you don’t want to. We’ll take things very slowly.” You flipped over so that you were facing him. You caressed his cheek, smoothing out the frown lines that wrinkled his forehead. 

“I love you, Marcus.” He wastes no time in kissing you, peppering tiny pecks across your face. 

“I love you too. I’m happy I get to hear you say that one more time.” 

You nestled your head under his chin and fell asleep to the sound of his breathing. Sleep didn’t come lightly for Marcus, he stayed up the majority of the night listening out for you and making sure that you were ok. 

This wasn’t going to be easy. You were still going to hurt and be shaken by what happened to you. In the months of recovery, you’d still have bad dreams, pent up anger towards the person who hit you, you’d hate to look at yourself in the mirror because of the new scars that covered your body. 

It’s going to take a while, and you weren’t exactly sure what that meant. It could be weeks, months, years. You knew that the mental trauma was going to be far worse than the physical and you would have to fight your brain more than your actual body. But Marcus was going to be there with you. For better or for worse. Through sickness and in health. 

You’d both wake up to see a new day tomorrow and that’s what counts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus talks you through a breakdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part of my most popular fic on here. written as a means of coping, although I hope that someone can find comfort in these words.

You weren’t sure why you were still upset. Actually, you did know, you just didn’t want to acknowledge it. **  
**

It had been months since your accident and you were faring pretty well. Marcus helped with practically everything, lifting a lot of your anxiety away. He took you to your doctor’s appointments, dropped you off at your physical therapy sessions, and even went through the trouble of getting a lawyer to settle your case. 

The guy who hit you didn’t seem the bit least bothered, more upset that his car was damaged than at the fact that he could’ve ended his own life _and_ yours. You quietly seethed at the thought, knowing that he moved on with his life while you were left to deal with the fallout. You didn’t voice your anger to Marcus, not wanting to bother him anymore. 

He was happy to see you getting better. The doctor gave notes to keep exercising, moving, and stretching your muscles was a good way to ensure that they wouldn’t lock up on you later. You went out for daily walks, Marcus even gifting you with an apple watch to help you keep track of your steps. 

The inevitable finally happened one Friday evening, when you were prepping for dinner. You were making spaghetti, nothing special, when you realized that you didn’t have extra boxes of noodles laying around. Your curse at yourself for forgetting that when Marcus stopped by the grocery store last weekend. You would’ve just called it a day and ordered takeout, except your meatballs were already cooking and your garlic bread was freshly baked. 

_You need to do it, you can’t be like this forever._

You cut off the oven, grabbed your jacket, your reusable shopping bags, and the brand new set of car keys that sat in its respective place where you and Marcus kept your keys. 

You stood in the garage for what felt like hours, just staring at the vehicle. It was along the lines of the same kind of car you had before, this time you opted for a different paint color. 

_You can do this. It’s simple, like riding a bike._

You press the unlock button and the car springs to life, the doors opening for you. You hop in the driver’s seat, dropping your purse and the shopping bags in the passenger seat. You close the door, feeling as if you were closing the lid on your coffin. 

For whatever reason, you couldn’t comprehend what to do next. You open the door, put on your seatbelt, check your mirrors, and then…. _blank_. You didn’t remember how to start the car. Any attempts at trying to put the key into the ignition failed you, so you sat there gripping the steering wheel hoping by some miracle you’d remember how to drive your own car. 

It didn’t take long for the tears to well up and spill over, for you to bang on the dashboard heavily, cursing and screaming at God for putting you through this. After your cries had subsided, you dug around in your purse for your phone to call Marcus. 

“Hey, baby, what’s up?” 

“Marcus-” 

“Woah, what’s the matter? Are you crying?” his voice thick with concern. 

“Marcus, I don’t know how to start the car. I need groceries but I can’t remember how to drive.” you sobbed, covering your mouth with your hand. 

“It’s ok, you’re ok-”

“That’s the point. I’m not fucking ok!” you regret yelling at him, the anger you had with yourself seeping out. 

“Where are you?” his tone doesn’t change, you can hear him moving things around in the background. 

“I’m still in the garage. I needed to get more groceries for dinner, but I can’t.”

“What do you need? I’ll stop by a store on my way home.” 

You give him a list of the ingredients that you were missing and he lets you know that he’s on his way home. You hang up, feeling more embarrassed than anything. Here you were, a grown woman, who couldn’t start her car without crying. 

* * *

Marcus came home an hour later, finding you sitting on the couch, staring at the television absentmindedly. He sets the groceries down on the kitchen counter, finishing what you had started for dinner. He calls out to you but you don’t answer or move. 

Marcus shrugs out of his suit jacket and slips off his shoes before he sits beside you on the couch. 

“Hey,” he grabs your hand and takes it in his. “I need you to open up, let me in.” he gently prods. 

“I didn’t want to let you down. I did everything right at the doctor's and I saw how proud you were of me. I didn’t want to burden you with this.” he rubs small circles over your knuckles, a nice grounding technique. 

“You could never burden me. You are my wife, I made a vow to love you through all the good and bad things. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.” 

You hesitate at first, not sure how to approach this topic. It was no use in sparing his feelings, if you were going to get past this you needed to tell him what you were thinking. 

“Sometimes, I think that my surviving that crash was a mistake. I haven’t done anything to prove I deserve to live and there are times when I wish I didn’t. Today was one of those days.” You don’t dare look at him, fearful of what his eyes will tell you that his mouth won’t. 

Marcus sighs then shifts off the couch and down on the floor, in-between your legs. 

“I need you to look at me, please,” he begs, tilting your head up in his direction. When you make eye contact, he continues. 

“You are worthy of being here no matter what. Doesn’t matter if all you did was wake up and lay in bed all day. You don’t have to prove your existence to _anyone_. I can’t tell you how happy you make me, getting to see your beautiful face and that gorgeous smile at the end of the day. Being wrapped in your arms while we sleep. You could stand in a room and I’d be elated just by your presence. You are _here_ , my love, and that is all we can focus on.” 

You sniffle, more tears pooling in your eyes. “Marcus, I get so scared sometimes-” he pulls you into a tight embrace, rubbing a hand down your back to soothe you. He lets you cry, reminding you every so often that he was sorry for not noticing the signs earlier and telling you how much he loves you. 

You spent so long being filled with rage, that it had finally taken its toll on you. You were tired of dealing with it, dragging it around constantly. You just wanted to be ok. 

You pull back from Marcus, wiping your face. Marcus guides you to the kitchen, wetting a cloth to press against your swollen eyes. 

“I know a good doctor, a therapist, who specializes in PTSD and traumatic events like car accidents. I think it’d be best if we give her a call, what do you say?” 

“I think that sounds good.” you agree, forcing a small smile for your husband. “Thank you, for everything.” 

Marcus grabs your face with both hands, planting a kiss firmly on your lips. “We’re going to get through this.” 

You believe him. 


End file.
